


i'll be a spark in the sky.

by riskbreakered



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, F/F, Heavy Metal, Post-episode 25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 10:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15217517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riskbreakered/pseuds/riskbreakered
Summary: Between dark and dreaming.





	i'll be a spark in the sky.

Not all sleep is restful and not all dreams bring solace.

A familiar, bare-black emptiness weaves around her waking moments. Her wrists hurt, her muscles ache with the strain of struggling against her current bondage. Yasha's mouth is parched.

She is desperate for a sign of rain.

Exhaustion wins and takes her.

*

How many days on the road has it been? Rage finds her easily in waking moments, a primal answer to her own fear. One of the captors comes too close to her cage and her hands find the flesh of his throat.

Blackness again. Her forehead feels damp. 

Someone cradles her head in their lap (Jester?) and attempts to mend her wounds. She feels helpless, and finds she welcomes the emptiness of sleep.

*

There's no stars in the sky this night. With her limbs stretched out in the open grass, she holds her breath and wishes for a storm. 

The campfire burns nearby offering a dull, warm light. 

Someone cradles her head in their lap, and Yasha looks up, more curious than startled from the affection. A hand rests against the pain of her forehead, soothing her.

Beau catches her glance and says something. It's lost on the wind. 

The light of the fire illuminates her face, dancing in her eyes.

Yasha reaches up—

*

The light vanishes; darkness again.

*

She feels the weight of metal against her palm. Concentrating harder, she tightens the grip on her sword. 

Her muscles ache from exhaustion, the proof of a long battle. Kneeling down on the ground, she tries to steady her breathing. The burst of rage and adrenaline begins to fade but at what are they aimed?

The land is dark. There aren't enemies that she can see. No men, no monsters. No moon and no stars.

Closing her eyes, she strains to listen and prays for the distant growl of thunder.

A hand rests on her shoulder. Moving up her neck to cradle her face, she relents. Yasha allows herself into the offered embrace. 

She can feels Beau's lips against her ear but she doesn't catch the words.

*

The once-pale skin underneath her manacles chafes and rubs raw with every struggle. Her jaw aches.

*

The kiss is soft and wet. 

Beau's mouth tastes cool and gentle, like the balm of a spring rain. She doesn't close her eyes, but if she did she would be sure -- there is no uncertainty of whose face she cradles in her hands. Under her rough, calloused skin she can feel the faint edges of a lightning scar, just on the edge of Beau's cheekbone. 

Her heart beats quickly, the air on her skin charged and electric. 

They pull apart.

No, they are _pulled apart_. Darkness moves around Beau, arms and limbs made of night and nothing, reaching and taking away. Snarling and greedy. Sudden and violent.

Yasha feels the rage burning inside her chest at this but she cannot move for her sword. The darkness grips around her arms and legs, pulling her down.

Her scream is silent.

Everything is darkness.

*

Not all sleep is restful and not all dreams bring solace. The wagon moving her cage creaks on the uneven dirt road. Her muscles ache with every jolt. Yasha moves slowly to sit up.

Her manacled hands rest in her lap, feigning some semblance of calm and peace.

Saving her strength, she prays and waits.


End file.
